"I have one brother, Connor, whom I admire. You look like him, but Connor is a cripple. He lost the use of his legs when he was wounded fighting a bear single-handed. He will not be king, either. His goodness is great, but his physical disability is greater.
"It was in my mind that I could enjoy serving you— serving with you, as you put it yourself on that first day. I don't know how I could do it best, I only know I could." I moved as if to speak, but he forestalled me, raising a hand.
"This language thing: I could learn Latin fast enough, if I needed to. But it occurred to me you might find it truly worthwhile to have someone to talk to at times, one you could trust, without another knowing what you said." He paused again, frowning to himself. "It is in my mind that being an adjutant is much like being a trusted friend. Trusted and valued. I would find no disgrace in earning your trust and value, and it seems to me that you should find no disgrace in my suggesting that it would be to your benefit, too.
"If there is one thing that my father taught me well, Commander Merlyn, it is the evaluation of men. I look at you and see the way you deal with men, from your father to your servants and your soldiers. You have their respect, and you do not fear to show yours for them. More important, though, you have their liking, their admiration, because of what you are, ahead of who you are. Those two, respect and liking, do not always go together. I know that everyone here, yourself included, sees me as a barbarous pirate. Well, barbarous I may be, according to your values, but I am no pirate and I am not stupid. I know my own worth. And I know what it could be worth to you, Caius Merlyn Britannicus."
By this time, I was listening in amazement, hearing far more intellect and maturity than I would have expected in this young man, who continued to speak, presenting his thoughts in flawless order. "Right now, I don't know how to ride, but I can learn to take care of your horses and their trappings, and in learning that, I'll teach myself to ride. I don't know your weapons, but I would make it my business to take care of yours, to clean them and maintain them, and in the cleaning and maintenance of them, I'd learn the handling and the use of them. The same goes for your armour and your clothes. As soon as I've learned to speak your Latin tongue, I'll be your personal messenger." He smiled here. "In the meantime, I'll act as your bodyguard. I have the size and strength for that, at least.
"I have five years to spend here, Commander. If, in that five years, I cannot perform the tasks you find for me, I'll step aside. If, on the other hand, you find me suitable and we work well together, I'll stay here with you, of my own free will, having earned the right to make my home right here in Camulod. That is all I have to say."
I had been sitting with my head down for several minutes, squeezing the ridges of my eyebrows between thumb and middle finger to mask my expression from his gaze. Now I held my position and let the silence stretch as I strove to accommodate the outrageous thoughts that were going through my mind. At length I sighed and looked up to find his wide eyes fixed on me in an unblinking stare. I shook my head slightly, still bemused at my thoughts. Everything in me was urging me to take him at his word.
"What am I to say? You honour me, Donuil. Of that I have no doubt. And you have met my reservations and dealt with each of them in a way that makes them seem petty. I must admit, the idea no longer seems as outlandish as it did at first. As you say, you have five years. The suggestion has much to recommend it, but what do you have to gain from such a bargain?"
He grinned. "A place in Camulod, your Colony. The right to ride with you and follow your ways. I would have no complaints."
I shook my head again. "My father would have an apoplexy."
"Why?" Again he grinned, his teeth flashing. "He stands to gain great strength, too. A loyal Scot in his household."
It was my turn to grin. "He'd rather have a hundred in his cells. But I will think about it. Quite honestly, the idea intrigues me, and the more I think about it, the more it appeals to me. I'll sleep on it and let you know what I decide tomorrow."
"Very well, Commander. I can wait."
"I'm pleased to hear that. In the meantime, my cousin Uther is expected any minute. That is what the Legate Titus came to tell me. He has been having dealings with your former ally, the self-styled King of Cornwall. It will be interesting to hear what he has to report. Come with me to the gates to watch them enter. Uther is always worth watching."
He rose to his feet, towering above me. "Uther Pendragon. I'm looking forward to seeing him. I've heard much about him."
"In Hibernia?"
"Where? Oh, you mean in Eire. Hibernia? That's an ugly name. Aye, but that's where I heard of Upstart Uther and Cowardly Cay. That's what Lot's people call the two of you."
I felt a flush of anger. "Some day, if I ever meet him, I shall be sure to take issue with him on that."
XVIII
Uther rode into Camulod in style, in spite of the fact that the column of riders behind him numbered less than four hundred of the original five hundred men he had led into Cornwall, and in spite of the fact that more than a few of those bore evidence of wounds. As we watched him approach, it occurred to me that he and his party looked extremely fresh for a returning raiding party, and I wondered if he had taken the time to clean himself and his men up before approaching Camulod. The thought was malicious, almost vindictive, and it shamed me. I glanced sideways to where my father stood less than three paces away with Titus by his side, and as I did so, I heard him remark, "Now there, Titus, rides a commander who has an eye for morale—not only among his men, but in the Garrison. He must have had his men stop and police themselves so as to make the best impression on the watchers here. Good thinking, that, good for discipline!"
My father's comment made me feel petty, but it also made me aware of the reason for my pettiness—my own uncertainties on how to deal with Uther and the problems he presented me. I knew I was not prepared to act as though nothing were wrong between us, even though Uther himself might be totally unaware of anything. It had been several months since the attack on Cassandra, and we had not spoken to each other in all that time.
I knew that Uther would be happy to see me, and my stomach roiled at the hypocrisy of embracing him with all of my doubts unsettled in my mind. I could not face him, I decided, and turned to leave, but as I did so I was confronted by young Donuil on my left, watching the approaching column, and I also became acutely aware of everyone else who was standing nearby. If I were to leave like this, abruptly and without reason, they would all wonder why, with the possible exception of my father, who harboured his own doubts, yet was prepared to extend the benefit of those doubts to Uther. I bit down hard and stayed where I was, watching the approach of Uther's cavalcade.
A pair of standard-bearers flanked him, right and left, each bearing a massive banner, one of which depicted the red dragon of his family, the Pendragon, and the other the great golden dragon that was Uther's new personal standard. Riding abreast behind these three came Uther's four senior squadron commanders, followed in their turn by a glittering troop of Uther's own squadron, his Dragons, as he called them. Directly behind these, at a distance of about fifteen paces, rode a quartet of strangers whom I identified as Cornish by the differences in their clothing, and behind them came the remainder of Uther's troop in a column eight ranks wide.